Virunga
by DanniZatara
Summary: Following the events of Jurassic World, Claire and Owen return to Isla Nublar. They try to balance haunted familiarity and new challenges. Yet, their biggest challenge still awaits them. Thousands of miles away, there's something sinister lurking in the heart of the Congo. Are Owen and Claire ready to relive their nightmares? Do they have a choice?
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note: Hello! My name is Dani. I'm (not so) new around here. I wrote quite a bit a few years back under a different (but similar) nom de plume for X-Men, The Mummy and Batman. I forgot the password on that account and can't remember the email address I used to sign up, so there's that. I have recently caught the writing bug again, after an extended hiatus of creativity. I guess I'll start all over so here goes._

 _As a standard disclaimer, I own next to nothing. Claire and Owen and other Jurassic things do not belong to me._

 _Please read and review if you wish to. This first chapter is a lot of narrative exposition, so my apologies for the slow start. Things get more exciting. I mean, how could they not?_

 _Cheers,  
Dani _

**Virunga**

 **Chapter One: The Incident**

"I'm just not sure if this is the best option," Claire sighed, placing her fork and knife down gently on her half-finished plate of herb-crusted salmon and grilled zucchini. Owen, sitting across the table and over a rather large serving of medium-rare rib eye, shrugged thoughtfully and began cutting another piece of steak.

"It is, Claire," he said, popping the slice of meat into his mouth, "This is the way it should be. Dinosaurs living with dinosaurs and not being used as tourist attractions. You know, a place of their own." He paused, swallowed, and took a sip of the red wine they had ordered with dinner before continuing, "And you never know," he said, "Some people have more money than they know what to do with."

"You're right," Claire nodded gently before taking another small bite of her salmon. A smirk played upon her red lips. "And don't talk with food in your mouth," she raised an eyebrow at Owen, who grinned back and took another bite of steak, making a larger than necessary show of chewing politely. Claire watched amusedly and took a sip of her own wine as the conversation petered out. She began to silently muse on the future of what had once been her only love, what had once been Jurassic World.

Owen was right about the future of the things. He was correct in saying that the best decision had been made. Isla Nublar would be turned into a protected natural habitat, owned privately, and run by a team of dedicated professionals; trainers, veterinarians, if the term could be applied, and of course, Owen. He was in a league of his own. Most importantly, no rides, no shows, (mostly) no tourists, and no accidents.

'But', a dreadful little voice filled the back of her mind; 'They are dinosaurs and shouldn't exist in the first place.' Claire frowned inwardly and berated her inner pessimist. The fact was that the dinosaurs did exist and should continue to do so, for science and for the sake of…well, for the sake of being alive.

Claire and Owen had returned to the island numerous times since what they had deemed _the incident_. On many of those visits they had been accompanied by lawyers, reporters, and often by their new beneficiary; the woman who had purchased Isla Nublar and was setting up a sanctuary for the should-be-extinct reptiles.

Her name was Hazel Barry. Fifty-six years young, as she insisted, tall and willowy, with close-cropped chestnut coloured hair. Hazel seemed "legit" enough, at least according to Owen. She had been married to a professor of bioengineering from Stanford who had died rather young a few years prior to _the incident_. Hazel herself was a veterinary expert, specializing in big cats and currently working at the San Diego zoo. Her husband had inherited a ridiculously large sum of money as a young man, which had been passed on to her, and was now being used to purchase Isla Nublar and employ both Owen and Claire. Owen would go back to handling and training the animals, keeping them healthy and happy. Claire would be doing what she did best, organizing. She was to organize appointments with donors, expeditions, and (very rarely) tours for small groups of 'tourists' who were paying a lot more than the fifty-dollar front gate price the theme park used to charge.

Owen and Claire were out to dinner celebrating the fact that the transaction between Masrani Corporation and Mrs. Barry had been completed just that morning, bringing with it the end of a tedious fourteen months of inquests, hearings, public and private interviews, and, for Claire, an unending cycle of reliving the worst day of her life. And that was just the daytime hours. At night, it was nightmares, cold sweats, grinding teeth, and general difficulties getting any rest. Yet, somewhere in between all that madness, love had managed to creep up and into Claire's distracted mind and arguably dusty heart.

Well, love. Love was a relative term and perhaps not the best word to describe the feelings between Owen and Claire. She certainly enjoyed spending time with him and the comfort his smile brought her on those sleepless nights. And he certainly came to appreciate her fiery temper and surprisingly understanding attitude - after all, he had become quite the unwilling viral celebrity after _the incident_ and Claire had helped keep him going every time someone asked about his raptors and the role they had played in defeating the…in _the incident_.

Yes, Claire and Owen enjoyed each other's company. And, if truth were told, they also enjoyed each other's bodies. But each was hesitant to admit, inwardly and outwardly, that what they felt was love. Perhaps it was fear that circumstance was what had brought them together and was the only thing keeping them together. Perhaps it was because Claire had never been sentimental and Owen had admittedly used the word far too loosely in his past.

Owen chewed thoughtfully on a piece of steak as his mind drifted to the island. It was still difficult to let his thoughts wander there. He had still not fully come to terms with the loss of Charlie, Echo, and Delta. Blue was still there, lonely and missing her pack. Despite what many seemed to believe, Blue was intelligent enough to understand that her pack had been killed. For a social animal like the raptor, this was not an easy thing to cope with. Owen made it a point of visiting Blue as much as possible and providing her with several bloody treats each time he did. He had also taken it upon himself to speak to their new beneficiary about hatching more raptors to keep Blue company and had been given approval. Claire, of course had shown hesitation at first, but Owen had come to expect that. Claire showed hesitation about everything. It had taken her fifteen minutes to decide between the Caprese salad or the salmon and as soon as their waiter had stepped out of earshot, she began regretting her decision. It could be trying, but it was also endearing. Claire, just by virtue of being Claire, reminded Owen to slow down and think about things before jumping to action.

As such, her hesitation about more raptors had allowed Owen to think over his proposal for three entire days before he had built a strong enough case to present Claire with; a case that had ultimately won her approval - and not without a little help from his patented puppy dog eyes.

"Want to go to the Everglades tomorrow?" Owen broke the silence that had temporarily fallen, glancing up at Claire who had been staring over his head and out the window. Her eyes travelled back to his and she smiled widely. Owen couldn't help but to match the smile.

"That sounds great."

Owen and Claire had been spending their non-island time in Florida, renting a modest condo until the day on which they were to officially return to Costa Rica; a day that was getting rapidly closer. The Everglades were definitely Owen's favourite place in Florida for many reasons, but mostly because the alligators reminded him of smaller, less deadly versions of his raptors.

"It'll probably be the last time we have a chance to head out there," Owen commented.

"Probably," Claire agreed, "The gators are going to miss you."

"Obviously," Owen grinned cheekily, "Wouldn't you?"

Claire rolled her eyes. 'Yes,' a voice inside her head answered for her, 'I definitely would.'


	2. Chapter 2

_Author's Note: Hello again! I would like to send a special thanks to anyone who read the first chapter. I hope you will continue to read and enjoy. Any feedback is welcome and appreciated. I'd love to know what you think! Cheers, Dani!_

 **Virunga**

 **Chapter Two: The Spiders**

A warm breeze blew through the open bedroom window, gently rustling the cream coloured curtains. Claire sat on the bed, amidst pale yellow and white gingham patterned sheets, reading a book about apartheid-era South Africa. Her secret obsession was history. If she had been less practical as a teenager, she probably would have chosen to study History, probably American, at university. Fortunately, or unfortunately, she had talked herself out of that and now enjoyed all the history she wanted at a leisurely pace and with pleasure.

She and Owen had returned from the Everglades just over an hour ago and she was exhausted. After having showered, the two had decided to unwind a little before calling it a night. For Claire, that meant reading. For Owen, it really depended. Sometimes he played video games, sometimes he watched TV, and sometimes he joined Claire in reading, though he wasn't so much into history books as science fiction or military books, fact or fiction.

Tonight, however, Owen was packing. Their big, hopefully permanent, move back to Isla Nublar was just over two weeks away. Claire had offered to help, but Owen insisted that he wanted her to relax. It was not easy to relinquish control of things, especially something as important as well-organized and efficient house-packing procedures, but Claire was trying to her best to be a little more flexible for Owen. As such, she had given in after only ten minutes of struggle and had resolved to not check in with Owen until he said he was done for the night.

Claire had just turned a page when Owen wandered in from the kitchen, tall and slightly sweating, just like the glasses of iced water he carried in each hand.

"Is it way too hot in here, or is it just me?" he asked, placing the two glasses of water down on the cherry wood nightstand, wandering over to the thermostat and glancing at it.

"It's just you," Claire glanced up from her book. Owen turned to face her with that typical smirk plastered on his face.

"You're not so bad yourself," he said with a wink, "Although those pyjamas do not do you justice." Claire arched an eyebrow at him and returned to her book. She saw nothing wrong with her chosen sleep attire, simple black shorts and a baggy blue sweater.

"At least I'm modest enough to wear pyjamas," Claire said quietly, with a reserved hint of humour in her voice. Her sense of humour had two settings: extremely understated or bitingly sarcastic. Owen chuckled and looked down at himself, bare-chested and with admittedly low-riding boxer shorts.

"Modesty is overrated," he retorted, turning back to the thermostat and lowering it several degrees.

"You're going to freeze us," Claire sighed, "It's supposed to get cooler tonight."

"I'll keep you warm, babe." Owen flopped down on the bed beside Claire and turned to face her, propping himself up on an elbow. Claire looked at him with a straight face.

"Ew," she deadpanned, closing her book and placing it on the floor next to the bed. Owen feigned a look of hurt and though Claire knew he was being playful, she did have a tendency to feel guilty whenever those damn puppy dog eyes showed up. Rolling her eyes, she placed her head down on the pillow, turning her body in Owen's direction. He leaned down and, brushing her bangs out of the way, placed a soft kiss on her forehead.

"One of those waters is for me, right?" Claire asked. Without a word, Owen reached over and handed her one of the glasses.

"Told you it was hot," he murmured as she took a long, refreshing sip.

Three weeks later, Owen and Claire found themselves lying in the same bed with the same sheets but in an entirely different home in an entirely different country. Some things were familiar; the smell of the breeze wafting in from outside, the shrubs and plants growing just beyond their walls, the faint hum on insects that could be heard all throughout the night. Yet, Isla Nublar had changed significantly since Owen and Claire had last called it home. There was something haunting, or haunted, in that familiar breeze and that habitual hum.

The move from their condo in Florida to their small bungalow on Isla Nublar had wrapped up earlier that week and they had worked tirelessly to get things in order, as per Claire's wishes. Most of the decorating and unpacking had fallen to Claire, and the movers hired to help by Mrs. Barry. Owen had been spending his days out in the dense forests with Blue or standing watch over the incubators where his new raptors were growing in their delicate shells.

"How did the eggs look today?" Claire asked, rolling onto her back and looking up at the smooth white ceiling. Owen mimicked her actions.

"Looking good," he said, "Won't be long till they're hatched." Claire smiled at the excitement in his voice that he couldn't contain.

"And the rest of the eggs?" she pressed on. Glancing over at Owen, she saw that he was smiling.

"The rest are also good," he confirmed, referring to all the other creatures growing inside the incubators that were not raptors.

"Good," Claire echoed, "I can't wait for things to be…" Her voice drifted off as her eyes noticed a large black speck on the ceiling above them. A shiver went up and down her spine as she rolled quickly off the bed. Owen looked at her with raised eyebrows.

"Finally lost it?"

"Spider," she pointed, moving to the other side of the room. Owen shook his head and laughed. He had seen the spider earlier, but thought it would be amusing to wait for Claire to notice it and freak out a little. She had not disappointed. Owen couldn't understand it for the life of him; she had let a T-Rex out of containment and allowed it chase her, but she couldn't stand the sight of a spider.

Owen grabbed a tissue from the nightstand and stood up on the bed. In one swift movement, he removed the spider from its perch and proceeded to walk over to the window and free it. Claire returned to the bed and he followed.

"You were saying?" Owen asked.

"Yeah," Claire smiled, "I can't wait for things to be normal again."

Somewhere, thousands of miles away, in a densely wooded area of the Congo, a spider crawled slowly across a branch.

A young man, no older than thirty, watched it's long, thick, black legs move across the wood deftly with an intense gaze from the other side of the terrarium.

"What is it?" he asked, taking in the red and yellow colouring of its body with interest.

"Evarcha Culicivora," came the reply from an equally young woman standing a few feet behind him, her dark eyes fixed on the man rather than the spider, "The Vampire Spider. Our team picked it up in Kenya a few days ago."

"Vampire Spider?" he repeated, with evident interest.

"Yes, it's the only species of spider known to hunt based on what its prey has eaten. It loves mosquitos because of their penchant for human blood."

The young man, olive-skinned and dark-haired, moved slowly on to the next terrarium and glanced in. Another black spider rested patiently on a makeshift log. The man immediately noticed its distinctive and very apparent fangs.

"And this one?" he asked the woman.

"The Atrax Robustus," she replied, "Sydney Funnel Web. Extremely poisonous and known to be vicious."

"Interesting," he let out a low whistle, "And you're telling me, Ms. Moreau, that you can fuse these creatures together? That you can…"

"Mr. Canale," she interrupted by putting a hand up in front of her, "You don't have to ask that question. You know what we're capable of. Just remember the Indominus."

"Of course," the man nodded and pursed his lips a moment. He reached into the pocket of what was obviously a ridiculously expensive designer suit and pulled out a card. He handed it to the dark-eyed woman in front of him.

"In that case," he continued, "I'd like the boss to call me."


End file.
